The Brontes

I had never liked Charlotte Bronte, probably because some biographer had said she destroyed Emily's unpublished writings after the latter's death. Even J. Barker's previous biography of the family hardly redeemed her in my opinion; it was more positive in presenting poor Branwell Bronte and their father, Patrick, in more favorable lights than had previous biographers. However, as I remember, it failed to show the closeness of the sisters and how much Charlotte depended on Emily, though having to handle her with kid gloves, as the only person with whom she was totally open and thoroughly "bleshed," until long after Emily's death. Emily was a difficult person if anyone intruded into her space; well, she was difficult, anyway. Wild.
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Today I finished reading this volume of letters to, by and about Charlotte. Of course, anyone who ever received a letter from Currer Bell/Charlotte Bronte kept it for posterity, and Barker succeeded in digging up a 400-page book's worth of them--not all from Charlotte, but also those she received from relatives, close friends and her publishers.
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What that woman suffered, what she knew and what she accomplished, makes me decide that I would trust her judgment in anything concerning that family. She only spoke coldly of her brother Branwell when his alcoholism had totally destroyed any hope he had of a decent future, and before he fell dead of the illness (tuberculosis) which none of them had known he had.
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In September of 1848, Branwell died suddenly, fell in the street and was dead 24 hours later. In December of that same year, Emily died of tuberculosis. In May of 1849, the youngest sister, Anne, was so ill that Charlotte took her to a beach resort, where she died and was buried, as Charlotte couldn't manage getting the body back to Haworth, Yorkshire.
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In one letter, after Branwell had died and Emily and Anne were both ill, Charlotte wrote that she couldn't stand to think of the past or of the future. She felt she was crossing an abyss on a narrow plank, and if she ever looked back or to the side, she would lose her grip on reality.
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Still she survived, and wrote another book. Emily had written Wuthering Heights and was working on another novel until she fell ill. Anne had written Agnes Grey and The Tenant of Wildfell Hall--which, by the way, I consider as good a novel as Jane Eyre. Charlotte's third published novel was Vilette, which I've never read. Before her siblings' deaths, she had written The Professor, which was refused by the publishers; Jane Eyre, and Shirley--which was the name of a place, not of a person.
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Of all their books, I still think Wuthering Heights is the only great novel. It isn't pretty or sweet, but it's great.
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Charlotte could have married at least three times before she finally married her father's curate, Arthur Nicholls. And so she got pregnant, and literally vomited herself to death after less than a year of marriage, a month short of her 39th birthday.


Charlotte Bronte, 21 April 1816-31 Mar. 1855 (Zodiac sign Taurus)
Patrick Branwell Bronte, 26 June 1817-24 Sept. 1848 (Cancer)
Emily Jane Bronte, 30 July 1818-19 Dec. 1848 (Leo)
Anne Bronte, 17 Jan. 1820-28 May 1849 (Capricorn)

"Do two unpleasant things every day..."

Meaning, I guess, two things you've put off doing because you hate to think about it. Ralph Waldo Emerson said that. Or maybe it was Judge Joe Brown.

Anyway, I guess I'm going to have to do something unpleasant tomorrow, like calling in for a {{{{shudder}}}} doctor's appointment. For several weeks, my left leg has been intermittently painful when I put my weight on it. Lately, it's often painful when I don't put my weight on it. Today it's a little better, but yesterday, my left knee was swollen to about one and two-thirds the size of the right one.

I've probably bruised a muscle with my little exercises, or with going up and down stairs in high-heeled shoes. Or it could be plain old arthritis. Or plain old "old age," although until this happened, I was feeling in me prime.

Whatever, I expect I must see what the doctor says, after he runs me through X-ray, CT scan, MRI, transesophageal electrocardiogram, a bone density exam, and a pint or so of blood-drawing.

Summing Up Una's Quilt

I'm grateful to everyone who commented on this project, including my son and my sisters, and the Charming Girls who posted to the blog. Also to my dear Amazon.com Soapbox friends MaryChris, Diana, Lana, Sarah, CeCe, Tisha, Zharon, and all the others who emailed their comments.

My Charming Girls Quilt Club "UFO" (unfinished object) for August includes quilting both Una's Quilt and the remaining work on the patchwork leaf quilt previously mentioned--with the footnote that I probably won't finish both of them within the month of August. But I'll try my bestest.

A detailed description of the Una quilt is on my Family Quilts quilting blog http://ramey-cagefamilyquilts.blogspot.com/.

Well, here it is.

When it's quilted, it'll have a narrow dark red binding, and probably loops for hanging. I've been feeling so relieved to have it done, and thinking I'll lay off of quilt-making for a while. But now that I look at the picture, I want to hand-quilt it. Soon.

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The house block isn't smaller than the others; it has a flocked white strip at the bottom to represent snow on the ground.

Leftovers and rejects

This is what's left after the quilt top is done--or nearly 'most done. I hope to have a picture of the finished thing tomorrow.

One of my pepper plants had a beautiful green pepper on it this morning, about 2 inches long. Unfortunately, I dropped a rock on it and the pepper broke off. But maybe there'll be others.

II. Another Squirrel Dream

I dreamed Bonnie Ann had a big beautiful squirrel, as tame as a housecat, and she gave it to me. I was on a bus, going home from somewhere, with the squirrel in my lap. The person in the seat next to me was admiring it, and it went over onto his knees, and then down onto the floor. But while it was on the floor, it also appeared in his lap. I looked at the one in his lap and exclaimed, "It's a remainder!"

These dream squirrels are enormous, and they have beautiful soft fur like a rabbit.

Another Country Heard From

Jed drove from Atlanta to Decatur, Alabama yesterday morning, worked in Decatur all day, then stopped by here about 7 p.m. on his way home. We ate dinner at the C. Barrel, then he went on. But not before he looked at the quilt blocks and made a remark or two. He said the block representing Giles and Kit (although he didn't know this) was messing with his brain. I wish someone else would read the book so they'd know what they're looking at. I think Susan has read it, but not sure.

Today is bill-paying day, and after that star-making day. I've dropped behind on the quilt top, as I've still got 16 (little) star blocks to make. And after that, I'm starting on a writing project which I won't talk about, lest I talk it out and then don't do it.

"I have spent my days stringing and unstringing my instrument, while the song I came to sing remains unsung." - Rabindranath Tagore

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P.S. I finally canceled the order for The Ivory-Billed Woodpecker, with the note, "I'm very sorry. This book has been lost." I know I'll find it, and when I do, I'm going to tear it into tiny pieces and burn it. No, I'll probably send it to the customer and tell her not to send me any money and never to mention it to me again.

Yesterday my sister Ramey came by to help me decide how to arrange the quilt blocks. We exulted over her having won two writing prizes, briefly reviewed "old times," and commiserated over the death of a favorite author, Frank McCourt.

Crisis! I mention this only in the remotely possible hope that someone has borrowed it from me. Last Thursday I received an order for The Ivory-Billed Woodpecker and have been searching for it ever since. There are only eight places it could reasonably be, and after that--chaos! Only an Amazon.com bookseller would understand. Well, I'll think about it tomorrow. Actually, I'll be looking in every unlikely nook and cranny between now and tomorrow.
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Added later: Buzz Aldrin was on the evening news, also Gene Cernan, sort of mourning the demise of our space program. Today is the 40th anniversary of the Apollo 11 moon landing. I'm proud that I worked on that program, and sorry that succeeding government administrations have chosen to spend money and go into debt for wars in Asia instead of pursuing the exploration of our solar system.

"The lunatic, the lover and the poet..."

Through my sister Susan's blog, I find that the Charming Girls Quilt Club members have been tagged to answer the following questions, which will give us an extra entry in this month's prize drawing. So here are my answers.

1. My favorite fabric: I'm not familiar with many brands and designers, except that when I really love a fabric, it usually turns out to be from Cranston.

2. The pattern I'm most looking forward to finishing is my patchwork interpretation of an antique appliqued leaf quilt. The original, called "Halcyon Days," is featured in Quilts for All Seasons, a book compiled by my sister Susan, edited by Patricia Wilens, and published by Oxmoor House in 1993. My quilt is almost finished, just lacking one corner quilted and the edges bound. I think this will be my UFO for August.

3. The food that is my weakness is currently Ball Park franks.

4. If I knew I couldn't fail, i.e., that it would be worth reading, I would write another novel.

5. The best "life advice" I know is "love God and do what you will" (so said St. Augustine). The premise being that if you love God, you'll try very hard not to do anything to offend Him.

I have great difficulty accessing Charming Chatter/Charming Girls. I spend about five minutes just getting into the site, then get confused about where to post, and getting back to the main page takes another five or so. It's probably the fault of my computer having too many encumbrances and not enough memory left, I don't know. But I wish Kelly and some of the members would visit Sourwood Mountain to say hi and to check my progress on the Una quilt.

I've been sewing since 7:00 this morning, and am just about ready to start on the border of the quilt top. So I do expect to have it finished by the end of the month.

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My sewing machine is currently situated in the living room, adjacent to the TV cabinet. This more or less slows down the sewing, but keeps me entertained. I just watched "A Midsummer Night's Dream" on TCM. This is one of the most delightful films I've ever seen. It was made in 1935, and I've seen it maybe a dozen times; I first found it in a video rental place about 1985. It's a charming and rather spooky production of Shakespeare's play; if it had been filmed in color, it probably wouldn't be spooky, but it's all black and gray. Victor Jory plays Oberon, the fairy king. James Cagney and Joe E. Brown are the chief and funniest of the players who produce "Pyramis and Thisbe," the play within the play. Dick Powell and Olivia De Havilland are the main love interest, and little bitty Mickey Rooney is the craziest Robin Goodfellow imaginable. Some of the theme music is suspiciously similar to that of "The Wizard of Oz" film.

AMND is at least as good as The Wizard. It's mostly populated by little people and fairies, and everybody can fly except the humans. The caption of this post is from the play; it's the (human) king's statement of those who have the most vivid imagination.

Forever Young

Shhhh! Artist (?) at work.

I think I'm working on the last large pattern block of my project. It started out as a wall-hanging with one central block and a couple of borders, but it grows as it goes. Anyway, here's a glimpse of my work table at present.

My son Jed came over from Atlanta Saturday, and we spent a nice weekend admiring the deck and the chimney. Saturday dinner we ate out, and Sunday I made cornbread and a very fine beef stew, if I do say so, and I do.

Fits and Starts

Late yesterday, I was seized with a fit of furniture moving. I cleaned out the "art room" and restored it to a dining room, resulting in not being able to walk through the kitchen for all the junk piled up. Today I'm doing a major throwing away of things that I know I'll want next week, if not sooner.

Jed is coming over today, and I hope I can remove a few piles of stuff before he arrives.

The quilt project is not going well, or at least not quickly. I've made three blocks, but two of them are no good. I made a Milky Way block on the sewing machine, and ought to have known better. Maybe someday I'll learn to machine-stitch in a straight line. But I'm not discouraged yet.

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I just thought of a funny book title I saw on Amazon.com. By Lewis Grizzard, of course: If I Ever Get Back To Georgia, I'm Gonna Nail My Feet To the Ground.

I Must Remember This

This is a pep talk, I guess.

The reason I don't get more things done is that I'm always worried about other things that I ought to be doing.

Occasionally, I get a tiny glimpse of the idea that it's my life, I'm the boss of me, what I want to do is OK because I don't want to do anything bad. But these moments pass in a flash, before the idea has time to take root and blossom.

However, though, this time the idea has lingered for almost 24 hours. For me, it's a revolutionary if not a novel idea. Hmm, as they say.

P.S. I've quit drinking Cokes. I've been on iced tea, etc., for two weeks.

Hit the floor running--

This is a work day. I've been up since 6:30, washed and dried 2 loads of clothes, cleaned up the kitchen--sorta--and watched "Sensible Chic" on TV. Now I'm going to change out of my pajamas and make pancakes for breakfast, then get on with the swabbing and scrubbing. Sometimes when things go wrong, if you leave them alone they'll fix themselves. But it has become obvious that the house isn't aware of that maxim, or at least doesn't agree with it. So I guess I'll have to do it myself.

It's still Monday.

Had to do another post. I finally got around the error message and onto Susan's Blackberry Creek blog. There I found two delightful projects that I want to join. First, Suze's friend Kai sent her this award, with strings attached. Susan passed it along to me as one of the "strings," which specify that you have to name 7 things that you love, and pass the logo on to 7 more bloggers. Well, since I don't know 7 other bloggers, I'll just name 7 (unexpected) things that I love, and won't really take the award.

1. Rain
2. Black velvet
3. Pink sequins
4. Fireflies (lightning bugs)
5. Rocks
6. New lumber--the looks of it, and the scent
7. Snow

The second project I joined through Susan's blog is at Kelly's Charming Girls' Quilt Club (see link in left column). Kelly challenges members to post an unfinished sewing project, and finish it before the end of the month. The rules include prizes for finished projects, but I think the chief reward is getting some of my dozens of unfinished pieces done.

My project for July is to finish the top for my Una quilt wall-hanging. So far, all I've got done is the central block and a pile of discarded attempts at more blocks and borders. Plus cutting out all the diamonds for the star border. There's a better picture on my quilting blog (link in left column).



I really do aim to finish the quilt top by the end of this month. I really, really, really do!

"Seed time and harvest..."

Last fall, I placed this pile of beautiful colored leaves on the cabinet, and it has been there ever since, undisturbed. I have dusted around it occasionally. It's there to remind me that fall will come again. No matter how hot the summer burns, relief will come, will come.

We have had some light rain yesterday and today, much appreciated by all, including my poor plants. I've stretched the garden hose its full length, and toted gallon pitchers of water here and there, throughout the dry spell. But there's nothing like rain. Nothing in this world.

Willis came this morning to collect his ladders and a few misplaced tools, and his final check for work done. His brother, whom he calls Bubba (I haven't heard his real name), is Willis's opposite. W. is medium-tall and stout, with blue-black hair shot with white, and a deep suntan. B. is very tall, so thin you want to hold your breath around him so he won't blow away, pale of complexion and gingery-gray of beard and hair. I resisted the impulse to hug their necks; they'd probably be horrified.

Le Morte D'Arthur can be read as an indictment of chivalry, even more so than as a showcase for it. The system drove Lancelot to a spell of insanity, which now we would call a "nervous breakdown." It spurred Arthur to commit more than one atrocious act. At last it caved in on itself and ended, in this book, in a general free-for-all bloodbath. This is my over-all impression, many years after I read the book.

I love Lancelot because, through all of the stilted language and magical thinking, it is obvious that he hated the system. All his life he loved one woman, who was the property of the king, and he never stopped trying to save her from Arthur's jealous wrath. Every knight who met him wanted to fight him, like the gunfighters in the movies about the Old West--everybody wanted a shot at the champion. Lancelot often went in disguise to keep from having to kill another knight. And when the Round Table cast uneasy glances at him when declaring Galahad the best knight of the world, Lancelot tactfully put them at ease. But by gosh, he was the best knight of the world, to me.

It may be inane and immature to love a fictional or mythical character. But I'm sure I'm not the only one who tumbles now and then.

If you love somebody, or some pet, who most likely never existed, I invite you to post it on your blog, and to tell why you love him or her.

I sold a book! I sold a book!

An old paperback of John Stuart Mill's On Liberty, and I cleared almost $2.00 on the sale. Amazon got $2.75. And that was odd, because the sale price was only $2.75. My profit came out of the shipping charge of $3.99. I'm sure everyone wanted to know all this.

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I've been thinking about good blogging topics. Every time I look at my "Famous Quotations" post, I remember how I cried when I first read Le Morte D'Arthur, when Lancelot said, "I always knew I was not the best knight of the world." I may pursue this later in the evening, after I've been to the post office.

One down, a heap more to go

I finally finished the central block of my Una quilt.

It's going to have a full border of Lemoyne stars. I have enough such star blocks which were made by my mother, and would like to use them, but I'm not sure the colors are right for this quilt.

The carpentry continues on the deck. They have just about rebuilt the thing. We won't have to think about replacing it for about fifty years, it looks like. Willis noticed that the railing was loose, and the deck sagged in the middle because it didn't have enough beams under it. He has replaced all the posts and top rails, and as soon as they get the new beams in, he'll paint the whole thing and MAYBE BE DONE!!!!! at last. It really is an impressive job.

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The heat is about to get me down. But I ain't down yet. Yesterday seemed the worst so far, even though we had a few drops of rain. By evening, I was feeling like Beetle Bailey flat in the road after a tank ran over him. I slept from 7 p.m. until 6:30 this morning, waking up 2-3 times and going back to sleep.

Farewells

Yesterday two great entertainers died, Farrah Fawcett and Michael Jackson. I always liked Farrah so much. She was a strong woman, and it seems the strong get a lot of loads to bear. She was never really recognized as a serious actress, possibly because she was too pretty. A woman I know, who met Farrah in the 1980s, said she was even more beautiful in person than in pictures.

Always when I hear the name Michael Jackson, I think first of the little 10- or 12-year-old boy with the Jackson Five. I think he was about 50-going-on-13 when he died yesterday. The music and style he developed never appealed to me, but I loved him just the same.

And a week ago today, Mr. Eddie Martin, a Leeds legend in his own time, died at the age of 92. So many memories of that gentleman.

All three of these people did a lot of good in their time here, and I'm sure they'll be rewarded.

It's all over but the painting

I've already been out, watered my plants, gone to the store, and chatted briefly with the Jehovah's Witness ladies who dropped by. Yesterday the workers cleaned up the deck, and I reckon they're ready to paint the chimney and deck and (please the saints!) be gone.

Yesterday Steve and his crew turned up in the middle of the day to cut the grass. They weed-et the end of the flower bed by the driveway, and I let them spray some weed-killer just on that end. Mo never goes out there anyway, unless he follows me to the mailbox.

Lawn sprinklers are beginning to appear in the neighborhood. Guess I'll have to haul mine out in the next day or so. If I ever complained about too much rain, I repent.

Today I've got to call my son J. and my other son J., and see what they're up to.

Famous Quotations

They run in my head like that news strip at the bottom of the screen on CNN.


"Where is that goat? Huh? Huh?" -- Sarah D. Satterfield

"ROTC ain't a disease, Will." -- from "No Time for Sergeants"

"I must be up betimes, for I have a great work to do." -- Charles I of England, the morning of his last day

"I have a terrific headache." -- Patricia Neal (Dahl)

"Jo-anne is jealous of Bet-ty Joyce." -- Missouri Ella Isbell

"That little thing ain't got its eyes open yet." -- Bobbie Lee Ramey

"God does not play dice with the universe." -- Albert Einstein re: quantum theory

"...aspyrin and tranquil-easers..." -- Tennessee Ernie Ford in spoof of Connecticut Yankee

"I always knew I was not the best knight of the world." -- Lancelot of the Lake

"I would certainly like to be president." -- Adlai E. Stevenson

"To me, the great adventure is to stay in Paris and write a novel." -- Francoise Sagan to friends who invited her to go to Africa with them

"Oh, my darling! If you go, what shall I do?" -- "Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn." -- Scarlett and Rhett

"The eagle has landed." -- Neil Armstrong

"Tom! You, Tom!" -- Aunt Polly

"Now is the winter of our discontent/ Made sunny summer by this son of York." -- Richard III

"Permit me to ignite your cigarette." -- Peter O'Toole as Lawrence of Arabia

"Joanne's gettin' fat as a bear!" -- Gordy Ramey

"I am an A-son, not a P-son." -- Beatrice K. Thomason

"I can't eat flowers." -- Stella Isbell

"This is Karl Pickens perking." -- Karl Perkins on Alabama public radio broadcast

"Oh, goddammit, we forgot the silent prayer!" -- Dwight D. Eisenhower opening Cabinet meeting

"Who are those men?" -- Butch Cassidy (Paul Newman)

"He'll probably make as good a president as he did an actor." -- Ava Gardner

"I don't write for posterity. What did posterity ever do for me?" -- Lytton Strachey

"He's a good fellow, and 't will all be well." -- The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam

"You'd hit yore momma before you'd hit me!" -- Dolly Parton

"Of course, you may have the baby! I'll send him to you as soon as he's weaned." -- Arthur Wing Pinero's mother to her sister, when Arthur was born 12th of 12 children

"Was you ever in a torpedo?" -- Joanne Ramey, age 7, to visiting serviceman

Horses sweat, men perspire, ladies glow

Man, am I glowing! Might as well call me a horse. I don't mind; I like horses.

What I thought were two old peony plants in the front bed turned out to be five. They multiplied. This morning I dug them up, put them in pots and set them in the sun. When I get the bed dug, I'll go ahead and plant them, and do the new ones when they arrive.

I wanted to get the old ones out of the front bed, because next time Atchison's crew come, I'm going to make them weed-eat all that mess of weeds, little trees and poison oak at the front end of that patch. I don't know what to do about weeds in the bed, growing up between the river rocks Steve piled in there, without putting landscaping sheets under them as he was supposed to do. I pull some weeds almost every day, but they've got away from me. Maybe I need to anoint the whole thing with weed-killer. I'm going to search online and find some natural weed-killer that won't be poisonous to animals.

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I found that vinegar, salt, and alcohol will kill weeds, but they also kill any nearby plants. They also harm the soil so that desirable plants won't thrive. The soap that some gardeners add to their mixtures softens the weed surfaces so the vinegar, etc., is more easily absorbed. Boiling water also kills weeds and good plants, nonselectively.

The only really safe methods I've found are sugar (or so says somebody), and mulches, especially newspaper as it decays and pleases the earthworms.

And the beat-beat-beat-beat-beat goes on...

Today the workers are at it again. They took Sunday off on Saturday. Maybe they're Jewish. Funny, they don't look...etc. If I had known they wouldn't be working yesterday, I would have slept more.
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I have to say, about that siding they're putting up. It's fabulous, and I don't know how a nail ever goes through it. It's made of "cement fiber," whatever that is, guaranteed waterproof for 50 years. They're really doing a beautiful job, making different-size boards out of 2x4s to save money. I asked Willis how he ever afforded all that shop equipment, and he just looked mournful and said, "Thirty years, thirty years."

On the minus side, part of that little V of roofing at the top of the chimney has also rotted. They're going to repair it, and said the repair won't leak.

On the plus side, one of the first things they did Wednesday was replace the garage-window glass that I, in a locked-out frenzy, broke out with a brick.
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The plant catalog said 10% off, plus $25 off on an order of $50 or more. Wurra the day! I ordered more plants, but they won't ship (or charge) (or need holes) until September. More hydrangeas (white); those bushy pink daisies I have always wanted; sweet peas already started; a couple of sorbet peonies so doubled and full they look like those big flowers we used to make out of pink Kleenex. This time I'm going to plant the peonies in the sun, and transplant the 2-3 almost-never-blooming ones that I planted in the shade in 2006.

A few weeks ago, I scratched up the surface of that mound by the drainage ditch in back, and sprinkled a packet of Johnny-jump-up seeds over it, not hoping for much. But they sprouted and grew, some of them, and once they're established they'll spread.

I hope.

The Lost Week

I thought Lewis--I mean Willis and Bud would come Wednesday and replace a few boards and paint the deck and be gone. Not so, but far otherwise!

The deck was OK, but the chimney was totally rotten, and it looks like there's 2-3 more days' work to be done.

!

It wears me out to watch people work. I just pace back and forth, wondering if they need another pitcher of ice water, or if one of them will step in a hole and cripple itself, or how will I get the car out of the garage with all those trucks in the driveway.

!

And most of the day yesterday, it was the Heating and Air Man checking and cleaning the AC and talk-talk-talking.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I shall run mad.

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Here's how it looks right now, with the insulation on, and their workshop set up unter die decht:

I guess all that's left to do is get the siding and put it on and paint it. I don't know about the top of the chimney. They said the back (front) side of it from the roof up was as bad as the bottom part.

Voltus Electricalis/Strata Illuminata Storm

That storm last night was a wowzer. For more than an hour, it lit up the place with constant lightning, and I mean constant. It also scattered limbs all over the back yard and washed leaf mold and trash out onto the grass. Also, it knocked a previously unseen birdhouse out of one of the trees, which looks like it's about a hundred years old. The roof is totally gone, but the structure itself is interesting.

If I could find a single, very strong young man with a very tall ladder, who needed a home, I might get married again. Nah! bad idea. But I need somebody to do the work around here that I find too tiresome, too inconvenient or too expensive to do myself. I wish they made robots like that; I'd save up my Social Security checks to buy one.

The hydrangeas I planted are already sprouting little new leaves.

Tomorrow I'm going to put the three lily-of-the-valley plants that haven't died in the flower beds in front of the house.

Grow, Plants, Grow!

I spent the morning outside talking to the new plants. Actually, putting rocks around each one so Steve's boys won't get over-industrious and weed-eat them. Also picked up about a truckload of limbs and twigs.

Willis came by and wants to paint the deck. I told him to go ahead. He painted it 3-4 years ago, and it has lasted well but faded in spots and is beginning to peel. He also at some point will probably paint the house and repair the chimney where some wood has rotted. He's going to look in his records and find out what kind of paint he used and where he got it, and how much he charged last time to paint it, and get back in touch. I know he'll want to cut down those high bushes at the side of the house. I know they need to go, but a mockingbird nests in them, and the hydrangeas bloom under them. Wurra, wurra.

I've got to make the rounds of P. O. and cat food store--I mean grocery.

High Hopes

I got all the hydrangeas planted. The holes were just right, but this soil, even wet, is hard and lumpy and obviously has a lot of clay in it. I put Miracle-Gro in the bottom of the holes, and the plants were in little plastic pots with dirt around the roots, so maybe they'll do OK. Yes, I was smart enough to throw the plastic pots away. Must say, I'm proud of me for digging all those holes, and of Mo for helping.

Even if the plants don't do as well as expected, even if crows and other critters dig them up--I've already got a lot of satisfaction out of knowing I planted them right. And just imagining a row of tall green plants, with huge heads of beautiful blue flowers, is better than not having tried to grow them.

The hydrangeas by the side of the house are blooming, but this year they're pink and lavender. You have to add minerals to the soil to control the colors, acid (aluminum sulphate) for blue, alkali (lime) for pink. The new ones ought to be blue without extra acid, under the trees with all those decaying leaves.
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The week ahead is going to be Una's Quilt Week. I'm going to get a good start, Lord willing, on completing the quilt top.

Once More Into the Flinty Ground

The sun is nearly down and the back yard is wet, so maybe today I really can dig a hole. Five holes.

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7:05 p.m.: Well, I dug 5 holes. It was easy enough, once I went and got the pick.
*

"The Last of the Dogmen" is a wonderful movie, a sort of watered-down answer to "Dances With Wolves." All washed and shaved, dressed in a pin-striped suit and with most of his curls cut off, Tom Berenger looks kind of sickly and silly. But as Lewis Gates, he is your all-American western hero. Not to mention the dog. Barbara Hershey is in it, too.

I sat down and watched the last 9 minutes of the movie on TV, after I dug the final 2 holes. I may watch the whole video again tonight.

The first thing I saw Tom Berenger in was one of the last episodes of "Cheers," maybe the last episode. He was a skinny boy (the curly head of hair was the biggest thing about him; looked like it weighed maybe 6 pounds) hired to replace Woody behind the bar, or something.

Wikipedia says he was born in Chicago to an Irish Catholic family, and his real name is Thomas Michael Moore. He's a Gemini, like the old Irish poet and songster Thomas Moore.

Book Club Today

So I've got to drink more coffee and hit the shower, to shift myself into running gear. I need a "mani-pedi," but when didn't I?

This is one of my favorite old photos. Left to right, my cousin Betty Joyce holding my cousin Linda Jean; my cousin Donald; me holding my sister Susan.

66-100 Things

66. After I got my first pair of eyeglasses at age 12 or 13, I was amazed to see leaves on trees instead of just big green blobs.
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67. The way to cook good oatmeal (Quaker Old-Fashioned Oats): Bring water to boil, dump in the oats and some salt, return to boil, stir, return to boil, put a lid on the pot and turn off the heat. Wait 5 to 10 minutes and serve. Or eat. There is no way to cook the ground-up oatmeal so that I'll eat it.
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68. Things I'd like to learn to do: (1) Swim (2) Dance (3) Whistle through my teeth
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69. Things I'd like to own: (1) A green thumb (2) A Jaguar X-something sedan (3) A baby grand piano
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70. My zodiac sign is Capricorn, along with Rudyard Kipling, Elvis Presley and Richard Nixon.
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71. My favorite snack is white wine, cheddar cheese and Ritz crackers.
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72. I have seen 2 UFOs.
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73. I have witnessed one event that I'm sure was supernatural. Others suspected.
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74. My mother and her parents and brothers lived in a real haunted house. They had a cat but no dogs. After she married, Mama had a dog named Ginger who wouldn't go near that house.
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75. My cat Mo can make ear-splitting noises like those Mama described from the haunted house. But they had other manifestations, not just noises.
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76. My grandfather Will S., and one of his brothers, were once on a long-distance walking trip. One stormy night they slept in an abandoned church building, which they later found out was not there. It had burned to the ground years before.
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77. Granddaddy Will's parents had a set of dining room chairs that moved in the night. No matter how the family arranged them, around the table or against the wall, next morning they'd be scattered around the room.
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78. A lady named Mattie lived in the hollow at the foot of Oak Mountain. She had a goat that would call her name--"Ma-ma-mat-tie!" She finally killed the goat. But this isn't about me. Except that I resent the killing of a smart goat.
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79. I once had a pretty calico cat named Carly. When she wanted to come into the house, she'd stand at the door and call, "Joanne! Joanne!" Well, it sounded like it.
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80. I'm a charter member of the Smithsonian Institution's Native American Museum council or whatever they call it. "We" have around 80,000 Indian artifacts in the museum. Next time I get a chance to go to DC, I'm going to check it out (haven't seen the Museum yet).
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81. I don't really collect anything now, but I have several piles of stuff I collected in the past: Yellow ware pottery; dolls; paperweights; bookmarks. I have about 20 quilts, so I guess I can call that a collection. They say that if you have more than 2 of anything, it's a collection.
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82. The most recent book I've read is People of the Whale, about an Indian tribe in the northwest U.S.
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83. I love all animals and feel close to them--although there are some I won't get close to if I can help it. It pains my conscience to put out roach discs or to slap a mosquito, but some things you about have to do if you're going to survive.
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84. Bumblebees nest, or congregate, or whatever they do, in holes around my house. When I go out on my deck, one or more will hover in front of the door or buzz around my head for a while. I call them my guard bees.
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85. I was stung once by a honeybee. And one time I stepped on a red wasp and it stung my foot. Ouch! Otherwise, I've never been stung.
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86. I drive a 16-year-old car that has been passed down through the Cage family. I've had it since 1999. It has almost 48,000 miles on the odometer (is that the right -ometer?).
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87. I once bought my daughter a used 1970s-something Camaro. I loved that car--she let me drive it occasionally.
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88. I've never had a broken bone (knock on wood!). Well, once in a fit of rage, I kicked a metal office chair and thought I had broken my big toe--it turned black. But I'm not sure it was broken.
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89. I don't read as much as I used to, because I get eyestrain so easily now. "Old age ain't for sissies." Someday I'll probably have to switch to audiobooks.
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90. I'm glad this is getting close to 100.
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91. I've got a boxful of 5 hydrangea bushes to plant. Tomorrow I've got to dig 5 holes.
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92. My favorite TV show is Jeopardy.
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93. The game I'm best at is Scrabble, but I haven't played it since my mother passed away.
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94. Games I can't stand are chess, bridge and Monopoly.
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95. The movie I've gone to sleep in the middle of the most times is "Star Wars."
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96. Back in the 60s, I was the first female to wear pants suits to work at General Electric in Huntsville. That sounds funny now, when nearly all women wear pants, even to church, if they want to.
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97. I'm not on Facebook, I don't Twitter, and I don't own an iPod. I don't even know for sure what an iPod is.
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98. I like computers, and am mostly in favor of technology, but there's no use going to extremes.
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99. When I first learned to recite the alphabet, I nearly always left out the N.
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100. When I get bored, I go to sleep.

100 Things (which I don't expect anyone to read all of)

Buffy and Susan have both listed 100 things about themselves on their blogs. Since I don't think I've done anything interesting lately, I'll try it. If I stop short of a hundred, maybe it's because I don't know myself that well, or don't think I'm an interesting person, or something.
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1. I was born early on one frosty morning (3:00 a.m.) at home, in east Birmingham, AL. My daddy ran all the way from Hammond Camp to Irondale to get Dr. Bobo. The doctor wrote my name on the birth record as Sarah Joe Ann; when Mama saw this, she had it corrected to Sara Joanne.
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2. When I was born, I had two grandmothers, two grandfathers, a great-grandmother and a step-great-great-grandmother. Somewhere there's a picture of Maw Maw, Granny Ella, and Step-Granny Retter holding infant me, but I can't find the photo.
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3. My mother said that as an infant, I had a line of hair down my backbone, and a row of 3 tiny brown spots on my right shoulder. I've still got the spots, but the hair disappeared, like most of the other hair on me but earlier. My Indian name could have been Three Mole.

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4. My Uncle Douglas was 4 years old, nearly 5, when I was born. He got a red wagon for Christmas that year, and a few days later, he pulled it out onto the front porch and started down the steps. Asked where he was going, he said, "I'm going to show my new wagon to Gordy's baby." His 7-year-old sister, Bobbie Lee, said, "Why, Doug, don't you know that little thing hasn't got its eyes open yet?"

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5. The first word I learned to read was SALT.
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6. I started to school at Crestline elementary school in Mountain Brook. We lived in a roomy old house on Overbrook road. My teacher was Miss Lula Woods.
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7. My best friends in first grade were Jake B. and Lucinda B. I remember Jake at my house, when we dressed up in some of Mama's old clothes, put on a pair of Mama's shoes, and they almost fit. Mama had tiny feet then.

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8. We moved to Leeds in the middle of my first school year. My Leeds first-grade teacher was Clara D.

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9. We (they) put on a Tom Thumb Wedding play that spring, and I was picked to be a bridesmaid. The other bridesmaids I remember were Mary Lou and Joyce Earle. Beverly F. was the bride, and Jack C. was the groom. He promised to stay married to her, provided she kept his shirts ironed neatly, and some other funny stuff. She promised to be his lawful partner, provided he did not smoke or drink or insult her mother. I thought those were the real wedding vows.

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This is the only extant "pretty" picture of me. Mama lost or threw away all the others, but she managed to keep the ugly or crazy-looking ones.
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10. In 7th grade, I was invited to join the staff of the school newspaper, The Green Wave, as an editorial writer. In 10th grade, I became editorial editor.

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11. I was elected president of my junior (11th grade) class. My escort for the Junior-Senior Prom was Talmadge P., only because we were class presidents.

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12. My senior class earned money for a spring trip to Washington, D.C. Mama bought me a pink-and-gray linen dress, yellow pajamas and a shiny black-and-gold bathrobe. Daddy bought me a black peau-de-soie cocktail dress with blue crystals on the skirt. About the trip, I remember almost nothing except the National Cathedral, which was still under construction, and the class donated all the money we had left to help pay for the rose window.

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13. I had recently broken up with two different boyfriends, and didn't have a date for my senior prom, so I didn't go.

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14. The University of Alabama awarded me a "fee scholarship," which meant I would have to pay for my room and board, books and special fees, so I went to work instead at the first of many clerical jobs I would have throughout the years. After working for a year, I went to the University anyway. While there, I worked at the fledgling public television station for 40 bucks a month, which I paid on my room and board. Somehow I made it through two years, with a good scholastic record.

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15. My work at the TV station was one of the happy times of my life. Besides being typist and general gofer, they let me learn and do many of the TV production jobs. I could do about anything except operate the cameras; at that time, they were so big and unwieldy, I couldn't handle them. I was floor manager for rehearsals of our live production of "La Boheme." We were the first public TV station in the country to broadcast.

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16. I got married at age 22, the last girl in my high school class to marry. I had the three best children in the world, eventually got divorced, and that's all of my life story I feel like writing. Didn't mean for it to be a biography.

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17. My favorite food is crisp bacon.

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18. My favorite drink is Folger's coffee.

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19. The book I've read the most times is Gone With the Wind.

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20. The movie I've seen the most times is "Titanic." Or maybe "Misery."

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21. My favorite singer was Elvis Presley. Still is.

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22. My favorite fantasy is that when Elvis's infant twin brother died, I got his spirit or personality or something vital. Elvis got the looks and talent, and I got the brains.

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23. I was 12 days older than Elvis.

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24. I liked the Beatles, with reservations.

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25. My favorite artists/painters are Titian, Rembrandt and Albrecht Durer.

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26. My favorite classical composer is Mozart.

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27. My favorite poets are Robert Browning, Gerard M. Hopkins and Robert Frost.

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28. My favorite novelists are Charles Dickens, Emily Bronte, Herman Melville, and Sena Jeter Naslund.

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29. My favorite biographers are Peter Ackroyd, Edmund Morris and David McCullough.

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30. I have two sisters, who are younger, prettier and more talented than I am.

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31. I'm a Christian. I was baptized by a Baptist preacher when I was 13 years old. After I married, my husband and I joined the Episcopal church. I'm not a regular churchgoer, because (1) I don't totally agree with the practices of any church that I know about, and (2) I'm too lazy and maybe self-conscious to enjoy being in crowds of people.

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32. I love Jesus, and I believe He's coming back soon.

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33. I believe in angels. They have saved my life at least twice.

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34. My ambition was to be a singer and a movie star.

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35. I have always been a writer and a poet.

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36. I have written three and a half novels.

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37. I have written approximately 400 poems.

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38. For seven years I was a secretary, then an assistant contracts administrator, in the Space Division of the General Electric Company.

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39. For ten years I was a claims representative in the Social Security administration.

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40. For 12 years I was first a secretary, then a computer technologist, at the University of Alabama at Birmingham, School of Medicine.

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41. I retired from UAB in 1999.

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42. I moved back to Leeds (from Birmingham) in 2000.

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43. The only movie star I've ever seen in person was Lash LaRue.

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44. I've been to all the states east of the Mississippi River except Arkansas, Missouri, Minnesota, Iowa, West Virginia and Delaware. The only trans-Mississippi state I've visited is Louisiana.

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45. I once went to Canada (Windsor, Ontario) with my Aunt and Uncle Collins.

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46. The farthest away from the U.S. I've been was Canterbury in England.

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47. The place I'd most like to visit is the Grand Canyon.

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48. My great-grandmother Eliza Jane was a Mescalero Apache Indian, said (but not documented) to be a daughter of Geronimo.

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49. My favorite movie actor currently is Brad Pitt.

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50. My favorite all-time movie actor was Gregory Peck.

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51. I think the best TV series show ever made was "Cheers." I generally don't like comedies, but "Cheers," up until Shelley Long left it, was a work of genius. After that, it was still good, and I don't think I ever missed an episode.

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52. I can't figure how Shelley Long managed to look like a beautiful angel on "Cheers," and so sharp and unattractive after that.

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53. The tallest I ever was (barefoot) was 5 feet, 2-1/2 inches. Since getting osteoporosis, I've shrunk to an even 5 feet.

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54. I drag my left foot, unless I'm careful.

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55. At age 74, I still have hot flashes.

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56. My first friend in Leeds was Bonnie (still living, and now living in Moody, which is next to Leeds).

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57. I have received 5 marriage proposals so far in my life. (Six. I forgot Marlow.) (Seven. I forgot Ralph.)

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58. I proposed to a boy in ninth grade science class, but he said to ask him again a few years later.

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59. My cat Maurice ("Mo") is the best cat in the world. Also the smartest and the sweetest.

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60. My cat Bob (Robert Rufus Redford, 1982-1991) was the greatest cat in the world before Mo.

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61. Bob disappeared in 1991, and I hunted for him for years.

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62. Once I dreamed I found Bob on a beach, only he wasn't a cat but a little boy with very short legs.
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63. The longest distance I ever drove was from Birmingham, Alabama to West Palm Beach, Florida, where I spent a month on a work detail for Social Security.

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64. The handsomest man I've ever seen in person was head of the Social Security Administration during my last years there.

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65. The most beautiful woman/girl I've ever seen in person was Jane H., whose grandparents lived next door to the Cages in East Lake. A few times, she babysat my daughter. Jane studied ballet, became a model at age 14, became a movie starlet and was in a movie with Burt Reynolds. She was one of the first models hired by the Wilhelmina agency, and modeled for them for many years.

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This is the only picture I could find online of Jane. It doesn't look like her. Hollywood makeup artists messed up her looks, as they did Lili Gentry and Tallulah Bankhead, to make them look like their contemporaries.

Belmont Disappointment

Calvin Borel rode Mine That Bird,
But he didn't win--they came in third.

Wouldn't you know it--
I'm still a poet.

Before and after watching the Belmont, I've washed five loads of clothes today--not all dirty, some just hadn't been washed in a long time. This time I'm separating out the fall and winter stuff to store somewhere other than my bedroom closet. Instead of a walk-in, it has almost reached the point of being a crawl-in. Trish Suhr, where are you!

I've also designed two blocks for my Una quilt. One is a mariner's compass that had to be a 10" block, so I couldn't use the patterns I've got, all of which are much larger. The other is a whale; I found a whale block on the internet as a base, but mine will be different.

This morning I repotted the lilies of the valley. They were drowning in the first planter I put them in; it had one hole in the bottom, but apparently that wasn't doing the job. I lifted them all out and replanted them in a big planter with a row of holes all around the bottom.

After all that work, I deserve a pizza and a movie. Strangely, though,--maybe for the first time in my adult life--I don't want pizza.

Hair in the Face

One night recently, I watched "The Quiet Man" on TV. Good movie, with a few silly exceptions. One was the theme music, the first two lines of "Isle of Innisfree" played over and over, without ever finishing it or playing another part. Another was the yards of footage of John Wayne walking; he walked like a robot.

I was reminded of seeing Maureen O'Hara on TV a few years ago. At age 80, she was still one of the most beautiful creatures imaginable. She said that during the shooting of one scene in "The Quiet Man," they had to keep re-filming because her hair kept blowing across her face, causing her to mess up the scene. The director, John Ford, finally yelled, "Can't you keep your hair out of your face?"

She yelled back, "What does a bald-headed old s.. of a b.... like you know about hair?"

My New Blog

I've worked really hard for two days creating a quilting blog called Family Quilts, http://ramey-cagefamilyquilts.blogspot.com/. There's also a link to it in the left column under "Links." I'm far from satisfied with it, but I've done done all I can do.

Now I have to get to the post office before 5:00 or make myself a liar by saying I'd mail a book today.

Life--It's enough to make you cry.

If my friends and loved ones didn't usually read this blog, I'd write down why I've bawled for hours. But it involves not only Vann, but Jenny, and a long conversation with Sally Freind, and packing and mailing my last remaining book about Elvis, and the sky being so beautiful that it would have made me cry if nothing else had. But I'm going to stop any minute now, and it's not likely to happen again for months.

Chicken Bella

No, I don't have a pretty chicken, or even a picture of one. But Jed and I ate lunch at Ruby Tuesday's today, and I had a dish called Chicken Bella. It was enough to turn one into a gourmet, or even a gourmand. Grilled chicken with a parmesan sauce full of baby portobello mushrooms and artichokes. Not fond of broccoli? Just dip an edge of it in that sauce and wow! And mashed potatoes with chives, white cheddar and bacon bits. And when we were finished, our waitress had the nerve to mention cheesecake. If I ate like that every day, I would get terminally enormous, but I'd die happy.

Yesterday Jed came over, and we discussed and made a list of everything we needed for a garden to plant my poor tomato and pepper plants: how many cubic yards of dirt (he's a whiz at turning 4 x 8 x .5 feet into cubic yards without a pencil and paper), whether to choose a wood or brick frame, how to keep the crows and squirrels out. Suddenly Jed said, "Do we really want to do this?" And I said, "Heck, no, I wish I had never planted the rotten little seeds. Let's put the tomatoes and peppers in planters. We'll plant the flowers around the mailbox and let them fend for themselves." So that's what we did.

Then after a supper of peanuts, leftovers, and the meatloaf I made Friday night, we watched "Legends of the Fall," which neither of us had seen in years, and which is one of the best movies ever made. (Sister Trois gave me the DVD one day last week. She's a good kid.)

Fifteen Books in 15 Minutes

My sister Susan tagged me to list 15 books that will always stick with me. The trick is, I have to do this in 15 minutes. So, I'll start now.

1. Gone With the Wind, by Margaret Mitchell
2. China Court, by Rumer Godden
3. A Tale of Two Cities, by Charles Dickens
4. The Once and Future King, by T.H. White
5. The Education of Little Tree, by Forrest Carter
6. Wuthering Heights, by Emily Bronte
7. The Razor's Edge, by W. Somerset Maugham
8. Le Morte D'Arthur, by Thomas Malory
9. David Copperfield, by Charles Dickens
10. Portrait of Jennie, by Robert Nathan
11. The Black Cauldron, by Lloyd Alexander
12. Ahab's Wife, by Sena Jeter Naslund
13. Kim, by Rudyard Kipling
14. Little Women, by Louisa May Alcott
15. The Confessions of Saint Augustine

Those are not in any particular order, and I listed them in 10 minutes. And I trust the Bible will stick with all of us when all else is forgotten. I know if I read over that list, I'll kick myself for leaving out _____________________ and ____________________. It should have been 20 books, or 50.

I notice some of mine are also on Susan's list. I hope my sister Ramey lists hers.

This beautiful moth lit on the deck door outside, then disappeared. I ran and got the camera, came back and opened the door, and it flew into the house. After it flopped around and I took a few photos, I opened the door and it flew out.


(Added May 29, 5:50 p.m.) The name of it, if I remember right, is a luna moth.

I think it was Walt Whitman who wrote, "...I could turn and live with the animals." Sometimes I feel that I could, too, if it wasn't necessary to live in a house.

Added Monday, June 1: After I had written the above, the moth got into the house again, and I chased it all around the kitchen trying to get it outside, but it lit somewhere and I couldn't find it. Then Saturday, Jed spotted the moth flopping around on the carpet in the living room. He herded it toward the front door and finally got it to go outside.

Summer Is Icumen In

And I'm done with the wigs, except for fun. If you see my pink scalp shining through what's left of the hair, just think of the old saying "less is more." In my case, the less hair, the more coolth.

Thunderation. Even though I cringe, squint and grow faint in the sunshine (not to mention sweat), I think it has rained just about enough this month, thanks a lot. The basement is still dry, and I'd like for it to stay that way.

The lilies of the valley are growing like weeds, that is six of the ten that I planted. I think the others are dead, but time will tell. Breck's still hasn't shipped my astilbe.

There's an ant heap in the slight bank in front of my mailbox, and this afternoon the inside of the mailbox, including all the mail in it, was covered with ants and their eggs. They must have been working all weekend to transport all that stuff up the post. Fortunately, only one piece of mail was a keeper, a book I had ordered from Bookins. I left the mailbox open, hoping the next shower will wash the ants away. Weird things have been happening with all this rain, such as soap suds coming out of the tap in the kitchen.

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(Added about 5:30 p.m.): When I went to the post office today, out of the corner of my eye I saw a gentleman at the big counter in the lobby. I said, "Hi!" and he laughed and said hi back. Then I saw that it wasn't Vann, but looked a bit like him. He said, "I bet you thought I was my brother."

I said, "For a second, I thought you were Vann Cleveland. Are you his brother?" He said no, and told me his and his brother's names, but of course I forgot the names immediately. He said he surely was sorry about Vann's illness, and I said me, too and told him Vann's my brother-in-law and who I am. He said his brother is married to Jane Wright, so we're all related in some fashion.

The Mole Who Came In From the Cold

Yesterday I was watching Starman, when I saw this tiny barrel-shaped body run under the TV cabinet. I started to climb on a chair and say, "Eeek, it's a mouse!" But it almost had no ears at all and just a little twig of a tail. Ever since then, Mo and I have been trying to catch it, but don't know what we'd do with it if we did. It has run into Mo's feet several times, then turns around and scoots back under something. He chased (or followed) it, all around the East Wing last night.

The back yard was almost totally flooded at one point yesterday, but there was no water in the basement. So I guess the little critter found its way under the garage door or through a hole somewhere. But how did it get up the stairs?

In the past few days, I've read The Gravedigger's Daughter, and People of the Whale, both very excellent books. (Both are future selections for the book club, so I hope I don't forget too many details in the interim.) In between, I read Rebeccca of Sunnybrook Farm for the first time. And then I watched Starman, which is incomparable. But as antidote to all this sweetness, I feel like taking another go at Herodotus's History, or at least a few good murders.

A Bird Adventure

The Ivory-Billed Woodpecker, now thought to be extinct. Julius and I got lost in Tennessee or North Carolina one time in the 60s. One of these flew out of the woods and over our heads. We could see it perfectly from underneath, and caught a glimpse of red on the head as it flew into the woods on the other side of the clearing that we were lost in. It was as big as a hawk or bigger, and its undescribable call was like it was coming through a loudspeaker. We heard it first and looked up; that's why we saw it so clearly for a few seconds.

We were so excited, we finally found our car before we could find our voices.

The little red-headed woodpecker that frequents my back yard is prettier, just not so big.

Hypercritical Me

On the Amazon Soapbox, in a discussion of the Darwinius masillae primate skeleton, I found another priceless example of someone's taking a cliche that they didn't understand in the first place, and twisting it into something hysterical: "While all the clock and dagger?"

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Every day I promise myself that tomorrow, I'm going to hop out of bed and into the shower and get ready to do wonders--whether in literature, home maintenance, landscape architecture or fine art. Then next day I find myself at 3:30 p.m. hovering over the danged computer. Whoever invented it ought to get at least a couple upside the head. It all started with Lord Byron's daughter Ada and a male friend of hers--they invented the first computer, if you don't count the abacus. Called it a "difference engine." Those cussed Byrons were too smart for their own good. Lord Byron had the biggest brain ever recorded, and, I've read, about the (estimated) second highest IQ (next to Einstein)--and look where it got him! For that matter, look where it got Einstein.

Which reminds me that Dr. Britt Anderson, while I worked at UAB, read that Harvard Med. was going to dispose of its samples of Einstein's brain, and any medical center could have it that would ask. Britt called up Harvard and got them to send him a jarful. Looked exactly like pickled cauliflower.

This is the Difference Engine. Don't know why it won't load right-side up.

This is Augusta Ada Byron Lovelace.

Morning's minion

"'The Windhover'

I caught this morning morning's minion, king-
dom of daylight's dauphin, dapple-dawn-drawn Falcon, in his riding
Of the rolling level underneath him steady air, and striding
High there, how he rung upon the rein of a wimpling wing
In his ecstasy! then off, off forth in swing,
As a skate's heel sweeps smooth on a bow-bend: the hurl and gliding
Rebuffed the big wind. My heart in hiding
Stirred for a bird, --the achieve of, the mastery of the thing!

Brute beauty and valour and act, oh, air, pride, plume, here
Buckle! AND the fire that breaks from thee then, a billion
Times told lovelier, more dangerous, O my chevalier!

No wonder of it: sheer plod makes plough down sillion
Shine, and blue-bleak embers, ah my dear,
Fall, gall themselves, and gash gold-vermilion.


-- Gerard Manley Hopkins"


Between rain showers this morning, I saw a pair of tufted titmice (titmouses?) at a puddle by the roses in back. (This photo is from the internet, I think the Cornell Ornithology Lab.) One day when I lived in the Oak Trail apartment, a pair of them sat on my balcony rail and sang. Of course, they're not falcons, but they are little birds with big voices.

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I planted the lily-of-the-valley bulbs--sprouts, actually; they sprouted in the bag of dirt they were shipped in. It took two bags of Miracle Gro to fill up the big planter, but it was big enough to place them 4-6 inches apart. They're supposed to be tough as nails, so maybe I won't kill them.

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I've also got my entry ready for ASPS's John and Miriam Morris chapbook contest. The prize is $100 and 50 copies of the book, if one should win. Now all I need is a book title.

Hey, Mr. or Ms. Weatherperson!

I've got lots of running-around to do today, and here it is raining off and on, which makes me want to go back to bed. But I can't. I've got to go buy dirt to fill up the big planter, to plant bulbs. Also, Mo is out of cat food again, and he hasn't yet learned to drive the car, so I'll have to go.
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Jed came by yesterday and we celebrated Mother's Day. He gave me 3 movies on DVD, and the neatest thing--a big round brush with a telescoping handle! Imagine what-all I can do with that, and besides, it's blue! I gave him a room and bed for the night, after we watched "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button." (Brad Pitt will never look the same to me.) This morning Jed headed back to his Atlantical home.
*****
(8:30 p.m.) So I went and bought dirt. I had made a resolution, that any time I was in a fabric store or department, I would only buy one piece of fabric. So I got the pink dots for my Camilla quilt.

But the blue is so perfect for my Una quilt that I'm going to make. Now that I've got started, at least I'm pretty sure that the tops will be finished someday.

Rotten little squirrels!

They scratch in my flower pots and scatter my little plants, dang their destructive hides. That's probably what happened to most of the flowers I've ever planted in the yard, and how a daffodil appears here and there where no flower has any business to be. Guess I'll have to make some kind of a Scare-Squirrel and put it on the porch in front of the plants.

The mail carrier delivered my lily-of-the-valley bulbs Saturday. I'm afraid to put them out, until I've fixed up some kind of squirrel-deterrent. I know the squirrels are the culprits, because the first time it happened, I heard a flower pot fall and looked out the door, and Mo was chasing one off the deck. That is, Mo was sitting by the door watching one scamper off the deck.

They're the cutest little critters I about ever saw. They sit upright, usually facing the house, to eat, and their white undersides look like tiny white snowmen scattered around the yard. They're almost as pretty as flowers, anyway. If they came in assorted colors, I'd just forget about the flowers.

How fragrant the rose...

I fear this may be the swan song of this rose. There's only one cane. Maybe if I cut it down this fall, it'll sprout some new growth. That one has certainly put on a show this year.

I'm host for the book club today, so I've got to get cracking.

Remembrance of Things Past

Sister Susan forwarded Isbell information she found on Ancestry.com, and I've been excited about that and following links. I've got to pack and mail a book, which I'm late mailing, which ain't good for the feedback. So I've got to get off the puter and get on the stick.

Second Post on Monday - Pictures

My sister Ramey (Pat) has been in contact with our cousin Chris Isbell for months, regarding old photographs in the collections of our relatives. He has recently emailed her copies of some of the pictures, and Pat has very kindly forwarded copies to me. Various people had labeled the original photos with the names of the people they understood were depicted. Of course, Pat and I know our Grandma and Grandpa Ramey (above), and can see that the toddler between them is our dad, Gordy Ramey. He looks just like Daddy did in teenage photos and in adulthood. Pat's grandson Reed (Daddy's great-grandson, and big Reed's great-great-grandson) bears a remarkable resemblance to this picture of Gordy as a child.

Both Reed Ramey and Vettie Isbell Ramey (pictured above) were born in or around 1890, and this photo was made around 1912, so they were around 20 to 22 years old. My reason for thinking the picture was made in 1912 is that Gordy looks to be about a year to a year-and-a-half old, and he was born in 1911. (Note: This may not be correct, about their age. Their parents had to sign for them to marry, as they were under age, and I think that was in 1909. So they were probably younger in this photo than I said. Maybe 19 or 20.)

The picture at left is our grandfather, Reed Ramey (on the right), and probably one of Vettie's brothers on the left. Whoever owns the original has marked it as "Bud" (Milton Isbell), one of Vettie's brothers, and Reed. I think the brother looks more like our great-uncle Andrew, Vettie's next-to-youngest brother. Bud was much older, and this fellow looks as young as Reed, if not younger.












The original of the photo at right was marked simply "Gordy Ramey," but Pat and I agree that neither of the boys looks like Gordy, and that their clothing appears to be from an earlier generation than his. It may be that these are two of Reed's brothers. Pat points out that the little guy has Indian beads, and perhaps an additional Indian artifact, around his neck; this supports the family story that our great-grandmother Eliza Jane was an Indian (Paw Paw/Reed himself told me she was, when I was a child).




We have no idea of the identity of the three ladies below. They could be sisters of either Vettie or Reed, as Reed and Vettie's daughter Betty Lou looked a little like the one on the left; and the one in the center looks somewhat like our great-aunt, Ella Ramey Hope.

I hope that Pat, or both she and I, can get prints of these photographs. If so, I'm sure we will get multiples and distribute them. I have very strange reactions looking at them, as if I ought to be able to reach in and touch these dear people. The little boy with the Indian beads looks a tiny bit like Douglas, and I want to know who it is. The boys could possibly turn out to be Gordy (big boy) and Douglas (little one), but I would be extremely surprised.

The hurrier I go, the behinder I get!

I spent most of the weekend quilting but still didn't finish my project. Also watched the tornadoes bouncing around Alabama on TV, and spent a few minutes in the basement while a big wind of some description passed over here.

All my seeds that I sprouted looked hardy until I put them in planters on the porch. Now most of them are dead, but I think a few will make it, if I can keep them from drowning. (See the very bottom of this blog for the seed packets; I think I've saved some of everything except the delphiniums and the Chinese lanterns.) Need to get out there and dig around to make garden space for them, and try to do the thing right. Watching Jerry (in the little yellow house next door) make 3 excellent garden plots has shown me how to do it. He got his all done and planted before our recent rainy days set in.

I can get along pretty well in the daytime, keeping myself busy with this and that. But in the evenings, when I settle down and try to find something on TV worth looking at, I get the strongest urge to write. Really don't know why; I think I've demonstrated about a million times that I don't have much of a tale to tell. Probably, what I need to do is stop comparing my writing to the books I read. Just do it because I want to. I guess. I don't know. Dammitall. Or 90% of it.

The bloomin' season

I think the white rose is a JFK.

The peonies that I planted 3-4 years ago have decided to bloom--at least one of them has.

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Regarding Ahab's Wife, or The Stargazer, by Sena Jeter Naslund. The ending, consisting of the last hundred pages or so, falls rather flat after the amazing, incredible rest of the book. I think she should have stopped with the death of Ahab, but that's just me. All I can say in summary is Wow! If I could write like that--if I could write like that--I'd never do anything else, I would just write, let it pour.

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"(But do you know me? Una? You have shipped long with me in the boat that is this book. ...If I am your shipbuilder and captain, from time to time I am also your comrade. Feel me now, standing beside you, just behind your shoulder?)"

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and

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"If you meet a woman of whatever complexion who sails her life with strength and grace and assurance, talk to her! And what you will find is that there has been a suffering, that at some time she has left herself for hanging dead."